A Dark Promise
by Leaf23
Summary: This story looks at the personal aspect of Morrigan and Daylen the protagonist's final farewell. Here are BOTH parts. This was pretty emotional to write, actually. Please leave comments and constructive criticism. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

"I have another option."

She seemed to appear from the shadows of his room, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. The bolt fastened as she locked the door and before he even turned, she was behind him, her hands on his arms. Morrigan never did seem to make unnecessary noise like footsteps.

"I would ask how you know, but I think I'd prefer not to know the answer," Daylen said.

Morrigan did not smile as he turned to face her. "I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed... and it could be you." She took a step back, her dark eyes as impenetrable as always. She may as well have never touched him. "But I know of a ritual, performed on the eve of battle, that offers a way out. No Grey Warden must die, but the Archdemon's soul is permanently destroyed."

Daylen looked for any sign of what Morrigan would say next, but she merely folded her arms. "The taint is what causes the Archdemon's soul to enter the Grey Warden. You possess that darkened blood, and if you administer the final blow, its essence will combine with yours, killing you both. But if there were to be another taint, one that was weaker, the Archdemon's essence would merge with it instead, leaving you unharmed."

"What do you mean by weaker?" Daylen asked. His heart was beating uncomfortably hard.

Morrigan shifted, yet her eyes remained fixed on Daylen's. "If you were to lay with me tonight, we would conceive a child that would receive the Archdemon soul."

Their eyes remained uninterrupted for a few seconds before Daylen finally looked away. He closed his eyes and took a breath. "That… that would solve the dilemma." He looked at her again. "And a _child_!" He shook his head, breathing in and smiling slightly. "I… I had wanted this with you someday."

Morrigan took a deep breath and for a moment he thought he saw an expression on her face, one of… sorrow? Concern? But it was too short to tell. Replaced by it was the cool indifference she always carried. She walked to his bed and sat down. "If you were to lay with me, the child would absorb the Archdemon's soul yet remain unharmed. You would not die. If you are interested, say so now."

"Of course I am," he said, turning to her. "Do you think that after all of our travels, I would want to die tomorrow?" His voice lowered. "Or to never see you again?"

Morrigan looked away for the first time. She stood up and walked to the fire, her dark clothing sharply contrasting the intense light. "If you lay with me, I leave after the Archdemon is slain and you never see me again."

"Wait," Daylen said, stepping towards her. "Why? Why would you leave? I survive, and you punish me by leaving me with nothing but memories?"

"Our entanglement was not what I anticipated when Flemeth placed me in your company," Morrigan said, her voice cold. "I am here to perform the ritual. If you accept, you will not die tomorrow when the moment comes. If you deny me, then my travels with you have been pointless and I leave now."

"_Pointless_?" Daylen said, his eyes narrowed.

Morrigan looked at him, her stone exterior softened for a moment. "No… not pointless. Were we different people in a different place… but no matter. This ritual has implications far beyond the lives of two mere individuals."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "I cannot tell you more, but I cannot see you again."

"Morrigan," Daylen breathed, his voice wavering with anger, "why is it that any time I come close to you…" he gathered himself, taking another breath. Before he could continue, Morrigan turned to him and grabbed his hand.

"I would not ask this of you if there was another option!" he realized she was pleading. "The fact that this can save your life only reinforces my desire. The ritual is completed, and you are safe… please," she said, and he thought he saw her eyes water, "do not try to complicate the matter with us! Perform the ritual with me, or I swear I leave now."

He wanted to show her how far his stomach had dropped since she entered the room, so casually announcing that the only source of happiness he had had over the past year was ending tonight. He remembered the conversations they had shared in the glow of the campfire, her voice and words in his head long after he had entered his tent and closed his eyes… He wanted to tell her that she had simultaneously melted and frozen his heart at the thought of a son or daughter with her and yet the knowledge that Morrigan, whose determination never faltered, would be somewhere in the world not next to him. He took a breath.

"Ok."

* * *

The first thing Daylen had noticed was how far from the others she had set her tent. She seemed determined to keep her distance, as though spending any more time with him and Alistair was more than she could manage. Alistair he understood, Daylen thought, smiling to himself. He and Morrigan had started bickering before Flemeth had even mentioned Morrigan joining them. Yet Morrigan appeared adamantly neutral towards him. She had sarcastic commentary on anything he spoke with Alistair about, yet she never directed any of her cynicism towards him. Determined to break her shell, he headed in the direction of her tent.

There was another thing that had taken Daylen little time to notice. Morrigan was beautiful. She emanated an essence of nature – dangerous when crossed foolishly yet with a splendor beyond anything the tame world could offer. He wondered how many years she had spent in the wild, or whether this was the first time she walked with people in daylight. He cleared his throat as he neared her and she turned to him from the fire she had prepared, her eyes like a cat's for an instant – or was that his imagination – before she said, "You wish to speak to me?"

"Yes," Daylen said. "Well, not about anything in particular."

"Oh?" she replied. "Then I advise you go to your tent and rest. We leave early tomorrow."

"I," he said, a little surprised, "just wanted to talk."

"I heard you. And I think that we should both rest before tomorrow."

"I want to get to know you," Daylen said, flustered. He glanced at the wet grass by her boots, the shadows moving because of the nearby flame. "Is it so much for me to get to know a fellow traveler when we will be spending every day for the next few months together?"

Morrigan paused, eyeing him. She looked ready to reject him again but then she said, "I suppose there is no harm in that. I assure you, however, you will find me quite boring."

* * *

Daylen awoke. He was alone in his bed and the sun had not risen yet. He could already hear sounds of movement outside his door and voices from downstairs. Amazed he had fallen asleep at all, he quickly put on his robes and armor, grabbed his sword and staff, and headed for Alistair's room. The knight was already eating breakfast, a servant said, and Daylen hurried downstairs, anxious for anything to relieve him of his thoughts from last night. A voice in the back of his head joked _Something like an Archdemon, perhaps?_ but the thought only made him grip his staff harder as he headed for the dining quarters.

He met Wynne on the stairs but they said little until they entered the grand hall, Wynne offering to eat together but Daylen declining as politely as he could before walking to Alistair. His silver armor shone slightly from the torches on the stone walls. He was sitting at a wooden table with Riordan, who excused himself as Daylen approached.

"Good luck today, friend" Riordan said, clasping Daylen on the shoulder. "The Maker knows it ends today… I merely hope that we do not meet Him in the process." Daylen tried smiling but failed, settling for a brief nod as he sat down next to Alistair. Alistair's plate was empty except for a loaf of bread that had two bites in it. Daylen doubted he could eat even that much.

"How are you holding up?" Daylen asked.

"Oh, you know," Alistair said, reaching for his goblet and taking a swig. "Perfectly fine, really. I don't know what the big commotion is about. It's not like we're about to fight a Darkspawn army or anything."

"Yes," Daylen said absentmindedly. He debated telling him about last night. "Have you seen Morrigan?"

Alistair shook his head. "No, I have not been fortunate enough to have her grace my company today yet." He smiled. "Pity! Listen, we leave in half an hour. You should eat something before we go… last thing we'd want is to have to intimidate our opponents with growling stomachs."

* * *

"Why all the touching?" she asked. "Why do people shake hands, or embrace before they depart? T'is the most peculiar thing."

Daylen laughed. Contrary to what Morrigan had said, she was intensely interesting, enough to keep him up the past four nights with conversation by the fire. He found himself trying to come up with more questions for a reason to continue talking, which Morrigan found very amusing.

"I am being serious," she said, the chirping of insects in the campground quiet in the background. "In the wilderness, the only time something would try to touch you would be to get you in its belly. I don't understand why people have such a fetish for physical comfort."

"What about your mother?" Daylen asked. "I find it hard to believe you avoided her touch your entire life. Flemeth seems kind… I mean, she saved my life."

Morrigan burst into laughter, nearly startling Daylen at the sound. Over the past few days, he had never seen her smile, much less laugh. "_Where_ did you gain this outrageous misconception that my mother is 'kind'? Her hand was strict and because of that I survived. T'was necessary for the type of life we had."

Daylen shook his head. "I still can't believe you never touched her."

Morrigan looked at him, her golden eyes illuminated by the fire. "Of course I touched her. She merely did not brood on our departures. The wild is not a place to develop attachments and grow weak. Touch is something I grew without, and I am stronger for it."

"But you are not in the wilds anymore," Daylen said before he could stop himself.

The fire was the only sound in the silence. "Do you mean to tell me that I should be some helpless doll in your company?" Morrigan said, her voice deadly still. "Do you mean to tell me that I should fall into your saving embrace and close my eyes? I am not," she shouted, "weak!"

"No, that's not what I meant," Daylen said but Morrigan was already walking to her tent. "I will see you tomorrow," she said as she disappeared, the swish of the tent curtain signaling the end of the night.

* * *

The overhead clouds spared little light as the armies marched for Denerim. They met few people on the road, though Daylen had little difficulty understanding why – evidence of the Darkspawn's passing could be seen, from the thousands of clawed footprints on the dusty ground to the occasional bloodied corpse still lying on the road. Daylen was at the head of the line with Alistair; if a preemptive ambush awaited, they would sense the Darkspawn before they attacked. He wished he could be further back in the midst of soldiers, though… it would make his glances into the throng less awkward.

He had not seen Morrigan the entire day, nor had Alistair and Leliana. Zevran had seen her when they had been leaving Redcliffe, but she had disappeared into the mass of people momentarily afterwards. Daylen resisted the urge to look behind him again. Morrigan had never just "disappeared" during their travels, and the memory of the previous night's events only amplified his desire to see her. There were so many unanswered questions. Morrigan made everything she said seem so final, but Daylen knew there had to be something from last night that he could change if he could just talk to her. The witch of the wild he had romanced was the most complex woman he had ever known – every conversation, she had been two steps ahead, speaking in a way that led their talk into territory she wanted and sent it spiraling away when it approached an area she thought better left unexplored. He felt he could barely keep up with her sometimes, but the instances where he said something that made her smile stuck in his head long into the day after their late-night exchange. The thought that they would talk the next night quickened his pace and cleared his mind; despite how unpromising or trying their journey seemed, there was one point of certainty every day.

"Look out!"

Daylen snapped out of his thoughts just as a fireball barreled past his ear, scorching the air with sick burning. Then, a tremendous blast of heat and sound knocked him forward onto his face. Shrieks and panicked shouting filled the air as the smell of burning appeared, only to be replaced by a stench far worse: it smelled as though something had died, been rubbed in mud and excrement for days, and then risen again. The Darkspawn were nearby. Daylen cursed himself for letting his mind wander. Now that he was focused, Daylen felt the uncomfortable tinge in his naval.

Looking up, he saw Alistair running towards several dark figures atop a hill to the right of the road. Arrows flew at him but he grazed them off with his shield. One of the disfigured humanoids shouted a terrible sound of tortured screams that made Daylen wince, less for the pain in his ears than the knowledge that sound brought – an emissary was with the group. Forgoing a glance backwards, Daylen pushed himself off the ground and began running after Alistair, pausing only to cast a protective ward around the knight. Something passed him to his right and he saw Dog speeding towards the hill, his thick muscles stretching and compressing the red war paint on his body.

As soon as he was in range, Daylen began reciting the elements for a spell in his mind. Energy spiraled around his staff as his thoughts darted faster and faster, Daylen's mouth moving silently as he worked the magic to exclude Alistair and Dog. As the last element passed the spotlight of focus in his mind, he raised his staff into the air and a thunderbolt erupted into the sky, shooting down onto the hill a moment later and bathing the air in a cloud of blue electricity. Guttural screams met Daylen as he started to run up the hill again, his boots flattening the yellowed grass. His magic was working – two grunts fell to the ground, their skin burnt black from the electricity shooting left and right out of thin air and disappearing into rocks and Darkspawn. The emissary, with his horned helmet, yellow eyes, and plated armor was not so quick to fall. The tempest knocked him and jerked his muscles tense, but it did not stop him from throwing an orb of green energy at Dog. The mabari yelped.

Daylen raised his staff again and shot poison at one of the four remaining beasts. Now that he was closer, he could see the Darkspawn more clearly – their vivid faces like skulls, their mottled skin stretched taut over their hunched bodies. Alistair shouted something but the clang of metal on metal as he struck a grunt's chest piece with his sword overrode his words. Daylen healed his friend before throwing a projectile of condensed energy at the emissary. The tempest of electricity faded, leaving nothing but the occasional crackling in the air, but Daylen knew another round was unnecessary. In a few short moments, the march would resume for Denerim, Daylen thought as the emissary stumbled from another bolt of energy he launched.

Alistair shouted again and Daylen turned to heal him before opening his eyes in surprise. From behind the hill, another emissary, two massive ogres, and what looked like a dozen grunts had appeared and were running towards Alistair. Dog leapt onto one of the ogres and bit into its neck, but the enormous beast flung Dog off and down twenty feet of hill. An arrow flew from behind Daylen at one of the ogres and he looked behind him. Four or five Dalish elves ran towards the battle, their longbows drawn and fitted with arrows. Behind them, several armored men were leaving the mass of soldiers and heading in Daylen's direction. The crowd below, he saw, was clustered around several people lying on the scorched ground. Remembering the fireball, Daylen began constructing his own, the elements running through his mind as he turned to the top of the hill. Two elves stopped next to him and shot at the Darkspawn archers that were aiming for Daylen before continuing upward. Struggling to maintain concentration, Daylen released the spell too early and it flew wildly into the sky.

Cursing angrily, he drew his blade and muttered a quick spell that resulted in the blade bursting to flame. He sheathed his staff and began running up the hill to meet a hurlock. He swung upward, cutting into the Darkspawn's armor as though it were butter. Another swing and its face was torn in two, the two halves flapping grotesquely as Daylen kicked the monster down the hill. The sound of clinking armor behind him announced the arrival of the Redcliffe soldiers and together they charged an ogre that was lumbering towards them. Daylen slashed at its arm, leaving a black burn but cutting little of the thick skin. The knights around him alternated piercing and hacking at the beast, which roared in agony and tried grabbing at the soldiers. Daylen swung at its knee before taking a step back and then leaping up to strike it across the face. Unfortunately, one of the ogre's massive swipes made contact with Daylen just before he reached the beast.

Daylen fell to the ground and rolled, tumbling down the hill. His vision swam with stars of vibrant colors and he bit his tongue as he hit a rock. He finally stopped rolling at the foot of the hill, away from the ogre and the rest of the battle. Blood dripped from his mouth as he slowly rose up, his arm shaking violently underneath him. It seemed he was on the far side of the hill, opposite of the road and in the midst of where the Darkspawn had come from. His sword lay on the ground twenty feet away but his staff, where was his staff? Before he could look further, he heard a footstep behind him and suddenly a cold hand pulling him up by his robe. It was the Darkspawn emissary from before, its bloodied horns wicked against the grey sky and its breath rank in Daylen's face. It raised a curved blade to his face and slowly placed the tip into his cheek, making a small incision. _We are not even at Denerim, _Daylen though hopelessly as the emissary tensed its muscles to rip him apart.

Suddenly a flash of blue enveloped the monster and a wave of cold and snow hit Daylen. He dropped to the ground, the rest of his face fortunately missing the emissary's blade. Clearing his eyes, he opened them to see his former assailant frozen solid, a thick layer of ice completely engulfing the monster. Then with a shout he knew all too well, a strike broke the Darkspawn into pieces, forming a cloud of frost and blood around a staff. From that familiar weapon, Daylen's eyes traced the hands, arms, and finally face of his love.

"I think t'is thrice you owe me now," Morrigan said, a smile at the corner of her lips.

_End of Part One_


	2. Chapter 2

"I have another option."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow but kept her thoughts hidden as Daylen brushed aside some sticks for the campfire to sit down. Now that she was so close to him, the smoothness of her face and allure of her lips hard to ignore, he found his prepared speech turning into water, the details meshing together and his carefully-worded statements disappearing altogether. He was worried this would happen.

"I… think you should let me apologize for last night. I didn't mean to offend you. I know the Wilds are unforgiving and… I was just trying to make you feel more welcome here," Daylen said. That didn't come out how he wanted at all. Morrigan pursed her lips.

"I am intrigued," she said, "by both your persistence and your unabashed naiveté." She was not angry, which Daylen gladly welcomed. "And what is this option contrasting?"

"You being mad at me." The words tumbled out and he mentally berated himself for continuing to sound so stupid. "I mean, I think I have an option that you might be interested in."

"Do go on," Morrigan said.

It would be a gamble, Daylen thought. But he had a feeling he hadn't experienced before, something in his chest, a lightness that made his breathing shallow and his heartbeat loud throughout his body. When he talked to Morrigan, nothing around him seemed to matter, from the words being spoken about him by the others to the hours he could be sleeping, slipping away as the moon slowly traversed the sky.

"I want to spend time with you. I listen to you talk about your past and I can't help but feel sorry for you. I want to," he wanted so badly to say 'be with you' but he couldn't, "spend time with you," he finished lamely.

Morrigan stared at him, an odd mixture of expressions on her face. She settled for mild confusion. "But we already spend time with one another. We have been conversing every night for nearly a week."

"I meant," he said, "I want to kiss you."

Morrigan's expression only became more confused. "Why would you wish to place your lips on mine?"

"It is more than that," Daylen said, surprised. He had never thought of it that way. He moved closer to her. "And I want to show you."

Morrigan did not move away as Daylen sat himself directly next to her, their knees almost touching. She turned from him and looked directly forward, her eyes unfocused yet intense. "I believe you are attempting to change my mind on physical attachment, and I must ask why. Physical attachment is weakness. It can be preyed upon and used against an individual." She turned to him. "Why do you persistently attempt to woo me? I am here to help you accomplish your mission. Anything more than that is optional and, I believe, unnecessary."

"This is what I mean," he said. "You view life as just a power struggle, an unforgiving world of strengths and weaknesses. A life without somebody in your life makes you independent, but I think it deprives you of such a richness and depth to existence. I," Daylen said, slowing for a moment and realizing this could either go very well or very wrong, "want to show you that… I want to show you a different side to this world, one where experiences and memories are made together and your heart is not guarded behind reservation and caution."

It had almost become an obsession, he realized. The more Daylen learned about Morrigan, the more he saw this tremendous difference between them, something that made him pity her and wonder how one could go about such a life. He wanted to ease that quiet affection out of her. He wanted to stand next to her on whatever hill she placed herself, watching the world's sunsets _together_, showing her she did not have to be alone. For some reason he found this aspect of her unbelievably attractive.

She was still staring at him but the fire in her eyes had faded to embers. "Why?" she whispered. At that moment she looked like a woman instead of a witch, from the way her mouth was opened slightly and how her thin eyebrows revealed the way her heart was beating. "Why me?"

"You've had to give up a lot to live in the Wilds," Daylen said, his mouth dry. He took a breath. "I'd say that you've lost, but you were never given the chance to. It's tough. It's really tough, and you've hardened to it. But I think that there's such a depth to life you can experience," he breathed, "if you experience it with someone by your side."

Daylen looked away, at the dirt on his boots. "I am surprised. You… know very much about me," she said quietly. He looked back at Morrigan and was surprised to see sadness. "Have you lost before?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daylen thought of the few girls he had kept his eye on during his years at the Circle Tower, his disappointment at their looks at other mages. Then he thought of the other forms of love, of his family he had left at Lothering when he was only six years old, of the first nights in the Tower and how his breakfasts made him sick with grief at memories of his mother's cooking and his father's stories at the table. He remembered meeting Jowan and the few adventures they had teasing the templars and hiding in the passageways they knew from exploring the Tower. He remembered Duncan and feeling like he could someday compare him to a father but never knowing if his initial trust in the man would have grown to something akin to love. And then he thought of his companions and how any battle could serve as the last moments they breathed the air of this world and heard the sound of water or song of birds. Without a word, he leaned over and kissed her.

Her lips were stiff as he touched her, but as Daylen moved his hand to her back, he felt her relax and move her lips to match his. Her hand touched his cheek and pulled him closer and it felt like something exploded in his chest, flooding him with yearning and raw energy. As he kissed her, the memories of everyone he had lost rushed through him and he felt his eyes water but the presence of _her _in his arms, with her own hardships set aside for the moment, made him feel something he had wondered about and envied for years – he was experiencing companionship.

They kissed for a few seconds before she pulled away and looked at him. From this close, with their lips nearly still united, he felt there was nothing he could hide from her. She breathed slowly, her eyes moving between his. Then she kissed him again, her movements rigid and unpracticed but beneath them a softness he did not expect. As they kissed, he pulled her closer and felt her loosen in his arms. Suddenly she pulled away again and their lips parted.

"T'is _cold _in my tent," she said.

"We can't have that," he breathed.

As he leaned in to kiss her again, he heard Dog howl at the moon on the opposite side of camp, a howl of longing that gradually faded to the sound of Morrigan's lips against his.

* * *

They had not even arrived at Denerim before they could see the burning. The sky in the distance was orange, the clouds a dark brown. When they had entered the gates, rushing the screaming Darkspawn, Daylen saw that every building around him was a pyre of heat and death, its ashes and smoke billowing upward to add to a canopy of black. It was almost impossible to breathe – aside from the smoke and bits of burning wood and flesh in the air, the smell of the Darkspawn, overbearing with the thousands around them, made what little air that made it into his lungs rancid.

So far, they had cut a path into the town center. Daylen was with Morrigan, Alistair, and Dog; the others had left with some soldiers to secure the Alienage, which was being overrun with Darkspawn and potentially one of the generals. The other general was somewhere nearby. As soon as he was dead, the four were running as fast as they could for Fort Drakon to confront the force that was forming another Blight as they spoke – the Archdemon.

"Ogre up ahead," Alistair called. Their boots kicked up brown dust on the ground as they headed for the monstrous figure ahead of them. The beast seemed alone in the clearing, picking through the bodies littering the ground – both human and Darkspawn – and was paying no attention to the alleyway from which Daylen and the others were approaching. When Alistair and Dog were no more than fifteen feet from the ogre it finally turned to them, its face splattered with blood and a severed leg in its massive hand. Daylen and Morrigan raised their staves in unison and a haze of freezing air swirled around the ogre for a second before forming a layer of ice a few inches thick around the beast. Daylen hoped their combined magic would hinder the monster but within a second it had broken through its casing with a roar and charged Alistair, who quickly leapt to the side as its bulk slammed into the ground he was a moment earlier. Dog ripped at its legs, alternating between biting savagely and leaping back, growling. As a bolt of lightning shot from Daylen's staff, he shouted to Morrigan, "You do know after this is over I will look for you!"

She shook her head as she threw a projectile at the ogre. "I asked you not to complicate the matter."

"Morrigan!" Daylen shouted and he gave up trying to cast a ward around Dog, choosing to quickly heal him instead. The mabari's broken limb realigned itself. "Is it not clear what you mean to me? Is there truly something so important that you will walk away from the most of my heart I can give you?" He almost released a jet of flame without excluding Dog and Alistair. "Can I honestly give you anything more?"

"Daylen," Morrigan screamed, turning to him. "T'is not about us!"

A low growl that seemed to shake the ground stopped Daylen's next comment from exiting his lips. Louder than the ogre's screams as Alistair's blade opened its flesh to the black air, another rumble came from their right, from behind the corner of a building covered in soot. Daylen's heart sank as an ogre emerged, and then another, before one even more gigantic than the others followed, each footstep cracking the cobblestone beneath it. Its skin was blue and it stood at least fifteen feet tall, its wicked horns curling around its ears before extending several feet in either direction. It was an alpha.

Daylen wasted no time racing through the elements of a spell for the vilest poison he could magically concoct before unleashing it upon the alpha. The dull green energy sank into its skin but the behemoth barely reacted, instead fixing its yellow eyes on the four of them and the now-dead ogre on the ground. With a bellow, it began running towards them, each footstep like a miniature explosion that shook Daylen's ribs. The two ogres, almost diminutive by comparison, followed suit. Daylen stole a glance to his left and saw Alistair and Dog running to engage the alpha. "Wait!" Daylen shouted. Fighting that monster and two ogres simultaneously was suicide. He cast a paralyzing hex on the ground before the alpha but it stepped through the glowing light as if nothing was there. Daylen cursed and began formulating a fireball.

Morrigan raised her staff and a chill appeared in the air. The temperature dropped lower and lower and a wind began to blow, though it moved in every direction, like a pit of writhing snakes. The dark bits of burnt buildings floating around them in the air began flowing through the maelstrom of air, turning gray and then white as bits of frozen water transformed them into razors of ice and snow. Alistair and Dog retreated as the air in front of them transformed into a thrashing blizzard of white. Nothing could be seen in the winter storm, not even the shadows of the ogres and their alpha. Their howls sounded distorted through the wind and Dog and Alistair moved even further away, panting and waiting for the first sign of something to emerge from the gale.

A dark shadow materialized before the alpha appeared, its skin torn and blistered with granules of ice coating every cut. Its mouth had a jagged rip extending upwards and bubbling with black blood. The alpha roared and grabbed a desolate merchant stand, one half black with dust and the other shining with ice. Daylen finished the fireball and shot true this time, the ball of compressed energy burning through the air as it landed at the alpha's feet and exploded with angry flames enveloping the alpha and hissing at the cool behind it. Alistair closed the gap between the four and the behemoth and plunged his sword through the flames and into its leg. The alpha roared again and swung the mesh of wood and metal, clipping Alistair's arm and spinning him wildly. The crack of bones breaking made Daylen wince.

Dog leapt onto the alpha, tearing at anything he could reach, biting at flesh that had been both frozen and burnt in the last thirty seconds. The alpha raised the stand and slammed it against the ground, splintering the wood and bending the metal but Dog was already on the opposite side of the beast, scratching at wounds on its legs. With a startled cry, Dog was suddenly lifted into the air and thrown against the building on their right, crashing through a window. Daylen had almost forgotten about the other ogres.

Running backwards, he reached into a pack on his belt and pulled out lyrium. They were wasting time. The general was somewhere here but they were fighting his army. Daylen swallowed a mouthful of potion before tossing the vial and casting an arcane bolt. An inhuman shriek to his right startled him as a massive spider ran past and leapt onto the alpha. Morrigan's weight pushed the alpha backwards and into one of the ogres, who fell to the ground. The other began running towards Alistair, who was limply holding his sword with his off hand and had left his shield on the ground. Daylen tried healing him but the alpha was stumbling backwards towards him and trying to fight off Morrigan's pincers from its throat. Tossing his staff, Daylen unsheathed his sword and with all his energy stabbed his sword through the blackened, blistered skin into its lower back. The blade lodged itself a foot into the beast and Daylen dropped to the ground, leaving the blade in its spine. "Morrigan, get off!" he shouted as he ran to the side. The alpha's knees buckled and it fell backwards, Morrigan's pincers tearing at its throat. She jumped off as the alpha hit the ground, Daylen's sword bursting through its stomach with a shower of blood.

As Morrigan attacked the ogre that had fallen, Daylen grabbed his staff and engaged the other. In less than a minute, the weakened monsters uttered their last growls and the clearing was silent again, like the eye of a storm. While Daylen and Morrigan began healing the others, they heard the slow footsteps of another ogre from behind a building. Ducking into an alley, they ran, each second feeling like it was a second too late.

* * *

"I want to give you something."

Morrigan pulled Daylen from her fire to the opposite side of her tent. They passed through dark green bushes, stepping over mossy logs as they walked away from the view of the rest of camp. Daylen realized she was holding his hand.

"I have been thinking," Morrigan said in the dim light. It was much darker here, and cooler. "If we were to become separated, it would make sense for the others and me to have a way to find you. You are our leader, after all, and your well-being affects us all."

Daylen smiled. "So, where are you going with this?"

"Your patience is admirable," Morrigan said, raising an eyebrow. "I have a ring," she said, moving closer to him, "that is linked to another and allows both wearers to know where the other person is. That person merely has to think of his or her location, and then the other wearer will know exactly where to find the partner! T'is very convenient for one as important as yourself."

"And I suppose you have the other ring?" he asked.

"Why of course," she replied as though he had stated something blatantly obvious. "Two months with Zevran is far too little time to trust someone who tried to kill you, Wynne is old and forgetful, Alistair would probably leave it somewhere, Leliana –"

"Alright," Daylen said, hushing her. Morrigan looked adamant to continue her justification. "I understand. It is practical."

"Yes, practical," she muttered.

She turned to a small box that had suddenly appeared by her feet, its surface momentarily rippling like water before looking like a completely ordinary container he could have found in a tavern, and bent down to open it. Daylen couldn't help but look at her figure, beautiful beyond anything he could have asked for. Was she his, though? Sometimes it felt like it, but there was still a wall hiding thoughts and emotions he yearned to know. At least he was with her, and the others had taken the liberty of making remarks during their travels, both casual and cynical. Morrigan addressed them with her own touch of ice but Daylen secretly smiled at the comments.

She rose and held two small black rings in her palm. "I want you to wear this always," she said, looking at him. He could see the deep gold of her eyes, even in the dark. "I would need to hurt you greatly if you were in danger and I found you were not wearing this." She smiled a little. "You do not wish that to happen."

"Don't worry," he said, taking one of the rings from her and slipping it onto his finger. It was cold. Morrigan fingered hers for a moment before placing it onto her hand. Suddenly, his ring was no longer cold but warm, warm and comforting. He looked at Morrigan. Her eyes were closed but she was smiling, something he could actually feel in addition to his beating heart. He closed his eyes and felt another rhythm, one that was cool and consistent, beating into the abyss of darkness under his eyelids. Next to the rhythm was his heartbeat, nervous and rapid. He felt a hand on his arm but he did not open his eyes, instead taking a deep breath. He could smell Morrigan's hair, the fruit with which she washed it, the raw nature she emanated. As he breathed, his heart slowly relaxed until his beats matched the rhythm he felt. When they were in unison, he heard Morrigan release a breath she seemed to have been holding this entire time.

"Daylen, I think I…"

But whatever she thought, Daylen never found out. From the darkness he felt her lips combine with his, her body press against him. They kissed as they had never before, and in their makeshift isolation he felt happiness, though he did not know to whom it belonged.

* * *

The grenlock's helmet clanged loudly against the stone floor of Fort Drakon and then silence again filled the hall. Daylen shot his gaze left and right but none remained but the four of them. They raced down the hallway, their footsteps echoing loudly before they reached a large carpeted room and there was no sound to complement their heavy breaths. The battle around them seemed thousands of miles away and Daylen almost felt the urge to enter a room, lock the door, and place his head into his hands and – he didn't know. He was so immensely tired but the adrenalin kept his muscles working, he was so scared but his companions' faces kept his expression stern. He felt so sick, like he was running towards something he would look back on with a heavy heart for the rest of his life but the event had not happened yet. He could not even look at Morrigan anymore for fear of another argument in their final moments. The ring he wore was silent. And underneath it all, perhaps the real reason he felt ready to lose consciousness was the monster above them, something of legend that wanted to feel him die in its jaws.

They rounded a corner and saw the stairwell to the final floor. They stepped over bodies of all races and blood fizzed in the crimson carpet with each step. Alistair ran ahead, undeterred by the scratches and bends in his armor. Then ran Morrigan, Dog, and Daylen. Alistair entered the stairwell and dashed upwards, disappearing behind the curve of the wall. Morrigan stepped onto the stone but then stopped, turning to Daylen. Dog passed her and galloped after Alistair.

"Well," Morrigan said, her breath devoid of the strain of their sprint. "I suppose t'is the conclusion."

Daylen said nothing, turning to the wall on his right and breathing heavily.

"I must remind you once more not to follow after me. My feelings for you are strong, but what I must do is –"

"Morrigan," Daylen interrupted. He looked at her, leaning against the wall with his arm. "Do you remember that conversation we once had?"

"We have had many," she said dryly.

"Morrigan," he said again, shaking his head. "Please."

She closed her mouth and looked at him with her usual aura of detachment.

Daylen took a few breaths before swallowing and then looking up at her again. Alistair and Dog's footsteps were becoming quieter. "Do you remember what I told you I wanted right before we kissed for the first time? About experiencing life with somebody by your side?" Morrigan stared at him, her mouth tight. Daylen shook his head again. "I know this is the end. But I just wanted you to know," he felt something in his throat and his eyes burned, "that I've felt everything I told you that night over the last few months with you. I have never felt like this with anyone. Maybe I'm really as lonely as you are," he said and he felt a tear fall down his cheek but he didn't care. "I will follow you because you have given me something that nobody else has given me my entire life. And for that, I thank you." He nodded his head and felt the tears stream down his face. Right then, everything hurt – his body, his wounds he had half-heartedly healed, his head, his throat, his mind.

He heard Morrigan shift from the stairs and he looked up, his vision blurry. She was looking at him. He could feel her heartbeat like the night she had given him the ring, but this time it was not calm and steady, confident and strong. He cleared his eyes and to his surprise saw two silent tears crawl down Morrigan's cheeks.

"We should go," she said, and she turned and ran after the others.

* * *

"One of us is going to have to die."

Daylen looked between Alistair and Riordan. The senior Grey Warden stood still, his eyes unfocused. Alistair was staring at Riordan. Before he could say anything, the Warden said, "Ideally, I shall be the one to deliver the final blow. But if I fail to do so, the task will fall to you two." He looked at them in turn. "Nothing is as important as slaying the Archdemon."

Alistair shifted, his armor clinking slightly. "I don't want to be the one to do it, but if it comes down to it… I suppose I will."

Riordan nodded. "Just think about what is at stake. All of Ferelden is relying on us to finish this Blight before it begins. Everything that is important to you, to anyone, will be destroyed if we do not slay the Archdemon tomorrow. If we must die in the process… well, we will have saved the lives of everyone important to us."

Daylen rubbed the ring on his finger. "I will deliver the final blow."

* * *

"Daylen!"

Morrigan's next words were overcome by the Archdemon's tremendous roar. The beast was the perfect demonstration of evil and seemingly perfect in its ability to withstand anything. The Redcliffe soldiers ran at the spiked beast to barely scratch its scales with their swords before they were impaled by its tail or met their demise at its teeth. Nothing was working. The catapults on the towers had managed to batter the Archdemon until its steaming black blood dotted the ground, but its ferocity was only kindled before the machines jammed and they were forced to flee for cover. Cold seemed to work well, but nothing Daylen and Morrigan were doing even remotely deterred the beast from ripping apart anything that came near it, no matter how heavily armored. Alistair was lying unconscious by one of the towers but Daylen had no time to stop his bleeding. Alistair would have to survive without him for now, or none of them might survive.

Daylen and Morrigan were on opposite towers, alternating casting cold spells and healing each other and Dog, who had somehow survived up to now. Daylen healed Morrigan before shouting back, "What?"

Before she could respond, the Archdemon roared and a jet of flame seared the air between it and Morrigan. Daylen watched in horror as the tower she was on became engulfed in the flame from the Archdemon's mouth, which burned even when there was nothing for it to consume. As quickly as he could, Daylen hurried through the elements of a blizzard to counter the fire and raised his staff into the air, but he barely had enough mana to do more than form a cool breeze.

The Archdemon roared again and its blaze stopped. The tower was now filled with a deep black smoke. Daylen looked over and saw the Archdemon snapping at some soldiers who were cutting at its flank. He ran as fast as he could across the open ground and up the incline that led to her tower. Plunging into the darkness, he closed his eyes and thought of the ring.

He could barely tell where she was but it was as though he could see better with his eyes closed. She was lying on her side against one of the walls, moving slowly. He ran to her and grabbed her, opening his eyes and only searing them with the smog. He coughed and held a robe to his face, clamping his eyelids shut. Morrigan's form re-appeared in front of him. She was shaking.

"Morrigan," he shouted through the cloth. Concentrating, he focused what little mana he had left and healed her through his hands. She stirred a little, turning to him. In the distance, he heard the Archdemon snarl and the shouts of the soldiers. Daylen touched her face.

"Daylen," she whispered. "I…" She shook her head. "Heal me once more and let us finish this."

"I can't," he said, almost frantically. "I don't have any lyrium potion left."

"Take mine," she said, reaching into her robes. "I will not need it soon." She handed him a small vial and he drank it in one mouthful, dropping the glass next to them. After a few seconds, he felt the familiar tingle of energy and he focused his thoughts into healing her.

They stood up and Daylen opened his eyes, realizing the smog had faded. They were out of sight but would not be for long. Morrigan looked him in the eyes. "Let us make the most potent ice storm Ferelden has ever seen." Daylen nodded.

Together they went through the elements for the blizzard, their thoughts running rampant and crossing from one individual to another through their rings. Their mouths moved silently as white energy swirled around them. As they raised their staves into the air, Daylen opened his eyes and shouted, "Run!" to the soldiers below them.

Daylen felt like he was above the clouds of a tremendous storm. Below him, white wind blew wildly, enveloping everything in translucent snow and ice and ripping apart everything caught within it. The Archdemon screamed as pieces of ice sliced through the fabric of its wings. Some of the soldiers managed to run to safety but those closest to the Archdemon were frozen solid or collapsed to the ground, only to be covered in snow within seconds. They had sacrificed themselves anyway, Daylen thought, but he still felt sick.

With the remainder of his mana, Daylen focused his power onto a thunderstorm. He felt outside help but did not look at Morrigan until after the thunderbolt leapt from his staff into the sky and fell near the Archdemon a moment later, bathing the winter storm with rampant electricity. The Archdemon's hide reflected the bolts but its wounds, especially on its wings, burned and tore in the tempest. It roared and spat black flames before leaping into the air, its tattered wings straining against gravity and the voracious winds around it.

"Archers!" Daylen shouted, and he took the horn by his side and blew several notes. From below, he saw the Redcliffe soldiers take their bows and begin fitting them with arrows. Hopefully the Dalish would come soon. Morrigan released an arcane bolt at the beast, which was slowly rising to their height, before she turned to Daylen and said, "The time is nearly here." He swallowed and nodded, gripping his staff.

The arrows began flying from the ground below just as the Archdemon reached Morrigan and Daylen. Its long neck was swinging from side to side but it stopped when it saw the two of them barely twenty feet in front of it. It snorted, fumes trickling from its mouth as it gazed at them with lidless yellow eyes. For a moment, time stood still as Daylen and the Archdemon locked eyes – a gaze between predator and prey, but which was which? Then Daylen unsheathed his sword and shouted, not words but a manifestation of every pain he had ever experienced and his hatred of this war coming to a crescendo as he gazed upon the beast. As the Archdemon lunged towards him, spewing black flames tinged with purple, he took two steps and leapt off the tower, his sword high above his head.

The descent lasted less than a second, but he saw everything as though he was reliving the duration of his entire life. The Archdemon's severity, its utter lack of emotion. The flames forming from deep in its throat, behind jaws with wicked teeth and dark gums. The wings extending a hundred feet in either direction, the wind whistling through tears in the fabric that hung and flapped with each stroke. Below them, the storm that raged with elemental passion. The Redcliffe soldiers, shouting to one another. Their arrows, whizzing by them or staying true and lodging themselves between scales. And even the ring, which in that moment he felt another presence within him that whispered _I love you_.

And then they collided, man and beast. Daylen thrust down his sword and ripped into the Archdemon's snout, his weight pushing the blade through the roof of its mouth. The sword jerked and he held on for dear life, whipping around and out of the jaws and flames of the enormous beast. It shrieked, turning its head from side to side but the blade only cut deeper into the monster's mouth. Flaming black blood spewed from the wound and ran up the length of the blade before Daylen realized they were falling. The tower behind him seemed to shoot into the sky and he felt the cold and static from below rushing to claim him. With a shout, he tried twisting the blade to rip as much as he could but the Archdemon roared, whipping its head suddenly and Daylen was thrown to the side, his sword wrenched from him. The ground rushed by him and he closed his eyes before he met the stone.

Darkness stayed only temporarily, much as he embraced it. He suddenly felt pain, intense pain that gradually faded as he felt his bones sliding against one another and realigning, or the itching of skin reforming. He opened his eyes and saw Morrigan over him, her hands shining with blue energy. As he felt his muscles tighten with new hope, she opened her eyes and looked deep into his. Nothing more needed to be said. Then her gaze flitted upward and the sounds around him finally registered.

The Archdemon was growling but it was a low sound that faded and reappeared inconsistently. Daylen stood as the sound of bowstrings humming after releasing their arrows surrounded him. He looked past the archers, human and elf, at their target, the Archdemon lying in the center of the clearing now devoid of blizzard or tempest, its movements slow and uncoordinated. A segment of Daylen's sword protruded from its snout. Daylen tightened his jaw and a raw passion filled his body until he could barely stand. "My lord!" a soldier shouted, and he threw Daylen his sword. Daylen grabbed the blade and felt the energy rise until he started running, faster and faster and shouting as he approached the crippled beast. It turned to him, its eyes showing the Archdemon's hate for what it saw. It coiled and then shot forward, but Daylen dove underneath the blow and cut through the monster's throat as he slid. The Archdemon wailed and sluggishly turned its head towards him but Daylen stood and stared at the wounded beast. Conquered.

In one fell swoop, Daylen brought the sword down upon the Archdemon's head, piercing it the entire length of the blade. He tried to let go but at that moment a light formed where he had stabbed the Archdemon, growing stronger and stronger until it was blinding and he turned his head. The beast trembled beneath him as the air around them shimmered and rolled with pent-up energy. Suddenly, a tremendous force rocked Daylen from the Archdemon and he felt like the world exploded with light and sound. He closed his eyes and covered his ears, shouting in addition to the maelstrom around him.

After what felt like an hour, the world gradually returned to order. The sound receded but the light still burned underneath his eyelids. He felt so alone in that moment and he fingered the ring impulsively. It remained silent. As the light slowly faded, he opened his eyes and stood, his eyes not even lingering on the carcass in front of him. As soldiers and elves ran at him, throwing him into embrace and shouting his name, he knew he was alone. Morrigan was gone.


End file.
